


Guys and Dolls

by vox_vocis



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Other, also shitty codenames, bear with me, i know jack shit about the 20s, or mobsters/gangsters in the 20s, or speakeasys, so much 20s slang
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-13 22:14:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7139690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vox_vocis/pseuds/vox_vocis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In prohibition era Manhattan, Annabeth Chase and Thalia Grace run the most popular speakeasy for young LBGTQ+ people in the city. But while most of their patrons are just there to get hammered and meet cute people, two gangsters, known only as Romana and the Necromancer, have made the speakeasy the home of their criminal activities. Their latest heist requires the utmost secrecy and stealth, as well as the help of a few key players. But the heart always tends to get in the way, especially when it comes to feisty flappers, a doctor's apprentice, a Classics professor from across the country, and an undercover cop who threatens to ruin it all.</p>
<p>AKA a blatant excuse for me to use as much 20s slang as humanly possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Katelyn My Love](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Katelyn+My+Love).



> Hello! I'm super excited for this fic. I started planning this months ago, and finally got around to writing it. Hope you all enjoy!

Annabeth Chase felt the blast of cold air from the open door before she saw her partner in crime. 

“God, Thally, hurry up, will you? You’re going to freeze my toes off.”

“Sorry, Chase,” Thalia grumbled, setting down two large crates so she could close the door and take off her jacket. The dress underneath was short and shimmery black, with fringe hanging in layers. “But do you want tonight’s juice or not?”

Annabeth rolled her eyes from behind the bar. “Did the boys leave us the good stuff?” she asked. “If we serve the Necromancer bathtub gin again, we’re going to lose his business.”

“No, this is the good stuff,” Thalia answered, picking up the crates again and making her way over to Annabeth. She set them down on the bar. “And I don’t see why you insist on using those wacky names.”

“It’s not like we know their real ones,” Annabeth pointed out, adjusting one of the pins in her hair. Her blonde curls were pinned ornately to her head, and she wore a pale blue sequined dress that her partner insisted brought out her eyes. “And besides, you really want to mess with them? They’re gangsters, Thally.”

“Suspected gangsters,” Thalia corrected. “Until they’re pinched and hauled off in chains, I’m still gonna give them all the hooch they can pay for.”

“They’re dangerous,” Annabeth insisted. “Does anybody even know where Romana’s from? Word is she didn’t even come through Ellis Island.”

“Whether she did or not, she pays good for her juice.” Thalia shrugged, coming around to the other side of the bar. “What’s it matter?”

“Maybe I don’t want my brains shot out by a mob boss.”

“Like you’re important enough for a mob boss.”

Annabeth scoffed, smacking Thalia in the side, who just laughed.

“C’mon, Chase, lighten up! We’ve got a great night ahead of us.”

“I’m just being careful, Thally,” Annabeth said, unstacking the crates. She began to unpack the bottles. “You know, something you should try being more often.”

Before Thalia could respond, the door opened again.

“In or out, bud?” Annabeth called to the man in the doorway, who was taking his sweet time removing his cold-weather gear.

“Come on, Annabeth,” the man teased, removing the scarf from over the lower half of his face to reveal a cheeky grin, the scar on his upper lip twitching. “Is that any way to talk to your brother-in-law?”

“Jason!” Thalia ran out from behind the bar immediately, flinging her arms around her brother’s neck. The motion knocked his glasses askew, and he staggered back a step from the momentum. “You’re back!”

“Home for the holiday,” Jason verified. “I’m all yours for the next three weeks.”

“Nifty!” Thalia exclaimed, pulling back to examine her little brother. “Boy, look at you. Have you gotten taller?”

“Not since I was sixteen,” Jason reminded her as he adjusted his glasses. 

“How’s Stanford?” Annabeth called, still behind the bar.

“It’s great,” Jason told her, taking off his overcoat. The suit underneath was a little run-down, with patches on the elbows.

“How’ve your classes been?” Thalia asked.

“About as fascinating as teaching Latin can get,” Jason answered, hanging his coat on the rack by the door. “Now, c’mon, show me around the place. The number one speakeasy in New York for pansies and bull daggers, if what my buddy Frank tells me is true-”

“Oh, hush,” Annabeth called from behind the bar, continuing to unpack the bottles. “It’s not like our only patrons are homosexuals.”

“And your hetero buddy Frank spends plenty of time here,” Thalia pointed out, leading him up to the stage on a sort of a tour. 

Suddenly, Annabeth gave a startled yell. “Thally, time to open up!”

“Oh, horsefeathers!” Thalia left Jason on the stage and ran over to the door, an enigma in her high heels. She grabbed a small piece of purple ribbon and opened the door. She tied the fabric onto the doorknob on the outdoor side before coming back inside, rubbing her hands together. “Lord Almighty, it’s cold out there.”

“What was that?” Jason asked, running a hand over the blonde scruff on his chin.

“Just a little signal,” Thalia explained, making her way back to the stage. “We use it to let people know when we’re open for business without attracting too much attention.”

Sure enough, not even a minute later, people started trailing in. Thalia and Jason cleared the stage for the speakeasy’s usual performers - Rachel Dare, Piper McLean, and Hazel Levesque. Each wore a matching flapper dress in green, silver, and gold, respectively, and a feathered pin in their pinned-up hair. Thalia nearly smacked Jason off his barstool when she noticed his gaze lingering a second too long on the silver-clad flapper.

“She’s not gonna be interested in you,” Thalia told him, retreating behind the bar to help Annabeth finish setting up. “Trust me. That girl’s got her eyes on the dame in the corner booth for her entire set every night, like clockwork.”

A few other regulars poured in, chatting and making smalltalk and ordering drinks that the two women behind the bar were all too happy to prepare for them. After maybe twenty minutes, Annabeth leaned across the bar in front of Jason, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Now, I don’t like to make any assumptions about what sort of people other people are into,” she started, voice low. “But I think you just might like the brunette who just walked in.”

Jason turned around immediately, and the two bartenders nearly lost it at the expression on his face. 

The brunette in question was stunningly gorgeous. The glossy, flowing black hair, the sea green eyes, the incredible bone structure, the muscular-yet-slim build, all added up to the most attractive person Jason had ever seen. 

“Percy Jackson,” Annabeth continued as Jason turned back around, cheeks reddening. “He runs a little shipping yard down at the harbor.”

“I’m sure you’ll have fun getting to know him these next three weeks,” Thalia added.

Jason scowled down at the drink his sister had poured him a few minutes earlier. If possible, his cheeks reddened further, and the other two completely lost it.

-

“Come on, Hazel, just admit it.”

“There is nothing to admit.”

“I saw you two grabbing dinner at Dion’s last night.”

“That don’t mean bull.”

“You so carry a torch for him.”

“Oh, will you stop?”

Piper Mclean barely heard and of what her friends were saying as she adjusted their microphone. Her eyes were fixed on the corner booth. Specifically, the woman occupying it.

No one knew her name. No one knew where she was from. No one knew what sorts of dirty dealings she got herself into. But the aura of mystery only seemed to add to her absolute beauty. The long, silky, purple dress she seemed to favor flowed elegantly while hugging her in all the right places. Her black fur stole slouched comfortably over her shoulders. Her long, dark hair was pinned in loose curls to her head, with one perfect tendril hanging free. Her tanned skin was practically luminescent, features as immaculate as carved marble. She took a lazy drag off a cigarette, turning to the man in the sharp suit sitting next to her as she exhaled. 

“Hey, McLean,” Rachel said, waving a hand in front of Piper’s face. 

Piper blinked, turning to the rest of the trio. “Sorry, what’d I miss?”

“Nothing new,” Rachel told her, shrugging. “Hazel still refuses to admit that she’s stuck on the teddy bear in the audience.”

“Like Piper’s any better,” Hazel countered, obviously just trying to get the attention off her little crush.

Piper felt her cheeks redden. “Hey, I’m not-... Okay, maybe I’m a little stuck on Romana. But have you seen the gams on that Sheba?”

Rachel chuckled. “You dumb Doras gonna stand around gabbing all night, or are we gonna sing?”

Piper sighed, shaking her head as she turned back towards the mike stand. She still hadn’t adjusted it.

-

“And you sure Hazel’s up for it?” Reyna asked, lowering the cigarette from her lips.

“Positive,” Nico assured her, voice laced with an Italian accent even after almost two decades in the States (Reyna, however, managed to sound like a born-and-raised New Yorker after barely two years). “She’s sworn to it. In three week’s time, we’ll have our jewels.” He took a swig from the glass in his hand, ice rattling, and nodded appreciatively. “Not too bad. Those bootleggers are getting better every day, I’m telling you.”

“Don’t get cocky, di Angelo,” Reyna said sternly. “We’re not ready yet.”

“What are you talking about?” Nico scoffed. “We’ve got all our ducks in a row. Tyson’s pulling the ship in on New Year’s Day, Jackson’s giving his guys the day off so he can get in, and Hazel’s meeting me at the checkpoint once she’s disguised the goods. The Romans are coming in three days to square away everything overseas. What else can there be?”

“The canary.”

“Oh. Right.”

Reyna shook her head slightly. “I swear, all that hooch is going to your head. We still need somebody to keep watch and let Hazel know when the bulls are coming. We’re not going to be done until…”

She trailed off, something onstage catching her eye. Or, rather, someone.

More specifically, the lead singer.

Her feet were strapped into heels so high that Reyna had no idea how she took a step without twisting her ankle. Her legs, long and slim and smooth, took a few seconds too long to examine. The fringe on her silver dress quivered with every movement of her hips. A chain of pearls dipped down just above supple breasts. Her hair was messily pinned up and adorned with an ornate accessory, complete with a tall grey feather. Her eyes, completely mesmerizing, reminded Reyna slightly of a kaleidoscope. But her voice… It was, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing Reyna had ever heard. She had a strange urge to put out her cigarette, take off the pistol she kept strapped to her thigh, and just talk.

“Di Angelo,” she said slowly, keeping her eyes trained firmly on the flapper. “Who’s that bearcat up there with your sister?”

“Redhead or brunette?” Nico asked, continuing his usual scan of the speakeasy. If she hadn’t known him, Reyna would almost call his razor-sharp gaze intimidating. 

“Brunette.”

“That’s Piper McLean,” he answered. “Real feisty dame. Got a big mouth on her and a set of pipes to match. Best voice this side of the Rockies.”

“Piper McLean…” The singer looked over towards their circular booth and met Reyna’s eyes for just a second before looking away. “She’ll do.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! This turned out to be a little longer than I thought it'd be, but I'm very glad I got this one done today! I hope you all enjoy.

“Tell me, Romana, how come I never see you out there cutting a rug?”

Even though Reyna had only asked Piper to bring her a glass of wine a few minutes ago, the woman’s voice startled her. She took note of its pleasant, natural rasp, the same one that accompanied her singing voice. It was almost hard to believe that she’d only heard it for the first time a day earlier. She felt familiar with it, as if she’d spent a lifetime listening to this woman sing.

“I don’t dance,” Reyna answered simply. Nico had gone over to the stage to talk to Hazel as soon as the singers’ set had ended, so his seat was empty, and Reyna added, “Sit down.”

For a moment, Piper’s expression faltered in what appeared to be surprise. But she sat down next to Reyna, setting the wine glass on the table.

“I don’t buy it,” she declared. “Everybody dances.”

Reyna gave a dry chuckle before taking a small sip of the wine. “You will find, McLean,” she said, giving a slight smile. “That I am not everyone.”

“Fair enough.” Piper shifted in her seat so she was facing Reyna a little more directly. “So, Not-Everyone, tell me something about your very unique self.”

“Come again?” Reyna said, setting her glass down on the table again.

“Tell me about yourself,” Piper repeated. “Your family. Your hometown. Your likes and dislikes. Your interests.”

For a few seconds, all Reyna could do was stare. One thing was obvious, this girl had nerve. And nerve was definitely something their canary would need.

“Let me make something clear.” Reyna spoke quietly and coldly, the same way she spoke to rival gangsters, and she could see Piper visibly tense. “You will never know a thing about my family or my hometown. My likes and dislikes are none of your concern. And my only interest is keeping my private affairs private. Do you understand?”

Piper nodded.

“Good.” Reyna picked up a pack of cigarettes and a packet of matches from the table. She struck a match and lit a smoke, then took a long drag before turning back to Piper. “Would you like a smoke?”

Piper eyed the pack almost hesitantly before deciding. “Butt me.”

Reyna pushed the pack towards the singer, who took out a cigarette and lit it off of Reyna’s already burning one. Taken aback momentarily, the gangster spoke. “Well, if you’re so interested in exchanging personal information, then tell me something about yourself.”

Piper chuckled. “Why don’t you tell me something about me, Romana?” She took a drag off her cigarette, obviously trying to appear cool, but started coughing almost immediately.

“Well,” Reyna said cheekily. “You don’t smoke often.”

“Don’t smoke ever, actually,” Piper corrected once her coughing fit had passed.

“That was your first?”

“Maybe.”

Reyna chuckled. “You are something else, McLean.”

Before Piper could respond, Nico stormed back to the table. “You,” he said, glaring daggers at the woman in his seat. “Out. Now.”

“I’m sorry?”

“What are you doing?” Reyna demanded, meeting Nico’s eyes with a glare of her own. 

“It’s the Augur.”

Reyna’s eyes widened immediately. She turned to the woman sitting next to her. “McLean, if you know what’s good for you, beat it.”

Piper almost protested, but her words died in her throat when she met Reyna’s eyes. “...Alright. See you around, Romana.”

As soon as Piper got up, Nico slid into her spot. “I’m telling you, Reyna, he means business tonight. Look at him.”

He nodded towards the coat rack, where a disgruntled looking scarecrow of a man was removing his outer layers of clothing. He had a thin shock of white-blonde hair slicked back with a copious amount of gel. His suit, clean and pressed, hung loosely from his thin frame. He hung up his coat and all but marched over to their booth. He rested one hand on the table and, with the other, picked up Reyna’s wine glass. He swirled it for a few seconds before taking a long sip.

“Pardon me,” Reyna said in monotone, glaring at him icily. 

The Augur lowered the cup, peering down at her. “Oh, I’m sorry, were you still drinking that?”

“Don’t worry, it’s all yours.”

“Why are you here, Augur?” Nico demanded, getting right to business. “This isn’t your territory.”

“I was in the neighborhood.” The Augur pulled up a chair from the table next to theirs, setting so when he sat down, he faced them with his chest resting against the back of the chair. “Everybody’s buzzing about your big heist coming up.”

Reyna sneered. “Anybody who’s in on the heist knows to keep their mouth closed, but nice bluff. What do you want to know, since you obviously know nothing?”

The Augur scowled, obviously dissatisfied. “Listen here. I have it on good authority that your bunch is trying to snag the incoming shipment from Rome. I’ll have you know that if either of you take so much as a step towards that shipyard, I’ll have you bumped off faster than you can say applesauce.”

Nico snorted. “Like either of us are getting anywhere near that shipyard.”

“Listen, Augur,” Reyna said. She paused to take a drag off her cigarette before continuing. “You and I both know that we are nowhere close to the same level. This time next month, we’re going to be living the high life on a private island, and you’ll still be choking on our dust. Now scram.”

The Augur looked from her to the man sitting next to her, as if the information he needed would leak out of their ears. When it was clear that he wasn’t getting anything more from them, he stood, still holding Reyna’s glass of wine. 

“This isn’t over,” he warned. He turned and stalked away.

Reyna huffed out a frustrated breath. “I swear to God, we should’ve bumped that man off long ago… I’m going to get more wine.”

She stood and walked off towards the bar, still muttering under her breath.

Nico had been sitting in peace for all of two seconds when he heard the Augur’s enraged yell.

“You imbecile!”

Nico turned to see what the cause of the commotion had been. The Augur was staggering back, Reyna’s red wine staining his white shirt. A blonde man in a heavy overcoat with a smattering of freckles across his nose stood in front of him, watching in horror. 

“I’m sorry,” Freckles said immediately, backing up a bit. “I wasn’t watching where I was going-”

“You’re right, you weren’t, bimbo.” The Augur’s voice rose in volume to nearly a yell. “You have any idea how many different ways I can ruin your life?”

“Augur!”

Nico wasn’t sure what came over him. Maybe it was anger at the Augur’s big head and cockiness. Maybe it was sympathy for Freckles. But he stood up, slamming his hands down on the table, making Reyna’s cigarettes jump.

“He apologized. Now, get out. You’re outside your territory.”

The Augur shot Nico a glare, then snarled at Freckles, before snatching his coat from the rack and leaving the club.

Freckles watched him go, breathing hard. The man was of pretty average height, wearing a heavy overcoat and a bowler hat. Tufts of beautifully blonde hair poked out from under the rim of the hat, and his eyes shone a shimmering blue. He carried a briefcase in one hand, and a stethoscope hung around his neck.

“Hey, Freckles.” Nico wasn’t sure why he was continuing, or why he had used his shitty mental nickname to actually address the man, but for some reason he kept talking. Freckles turned to face him. “Come take a seat, will you?”

Freckles approached the table almost hesitantly. He sat down in the booth, and Nico did the same.

“So, tell me, you got a name?”

“Solace,” the man answered. “Dr. William Solace.”

“Dr. William Solace,” Nico repeated, trying it out on his tongue.

“I go by Will, though,” Will said, reddening slightly at the use of his full name. “Do you?”

“Do I go by Will?”

“Do you have a name?”

“They call me the Necromancer,” Nico said in response. Something about the way Will’s eyes widened at his reply, as if he were afraid he were about to be sent into the depths of Hell, made Nico chuckle. 

“That’s… Ominous,” Will decided. “Why don’t you use your real name?”

For a moment, Nico blanched. His mind pulled him back to the last time someone other than Reyna had known his real name, someone who’d gone by the Timekeeper. He’d managed to take him down, of course. He always took down the bad guys, although he himself wasn't exactly a hero.

There would be no more Biancas. 

“Names have power, Freckles.”

Will nodded once, considering Nico’s words. His eyes drifted down towards the pack of cigarettes on the table. “You shouldn’t smoke, you know. It’s hard on the lungs.”

Nico decided not to mention that the cigarettes weren’t his. “Says who?”

“Just an observation.”

Nico sneered playfully. “Are you always sharing your observations with complete strangers, Dr. Nosy?”

“We’re not strangers,” Will countered. “I know your name… Or, I sort of know your name. And you know mine.”

“Three-quarters strangers, then,” Nico decided.

“Pity,” Will said. “In that case, I look forward to getting to know you.”

Nico raised a skeptical eyebrow. This man was nothing like what he’d first pegged him as. He was smart, that much was clear. Quick-witted. And as inquisitive as they come. Not at all the type of person Nico put up with. And yet, he’d invited him to sit down. They were still talking. 

“Good luck with that, Freckles.”

 

-

 

Sergeant Frank Zhang, the NYPD’s top detective, was in way over his head.

He’d pleaded with the chief for nearly an hour to let him go undercover in the speakeasy instead of busting it right away. As soon as he saw the sketchy pair in the corner booth, he knew it would be the biggest bust of his career. The thing people would talk about for years, even after he retired from the force. A few long weeks and some careful eavesdropping, he managed to piece together that he was working with an elusive criminal duo, one his precinct had been chasing for years. From what he could figure out, there was another heist going down in three weeks time. A jewel robbery involving the green-eyed shipyard owner and the dark-skinned singer.

The singer who had caught his eye immediately.

Sergeant Frank Zhang, the NYPD’s top detective, was in way over his head.

He crumpled and uncrumpled the small cocktail napkin that had come with his last drink, now long gone, as he listened to the jaunty piano music filling the club. The singers had finished a shortened set long ago, sharing the stage that night with an impish pianist who had introduced himself as Leo Valdez. 

One thought raced through Frank’s mind over and over again, as little as he wanted it there. If he wanted information, he’d have to keep going out with Hazel Levesque. 

It wasn’t that he disliked her. In fact, it was quite the opposite. He liked her a lot. Maybe too much. Even before their one date, his heart had done a little fluttery dance whenever he saw her. But she was in on the heist. A heist he would have to break up. It could never be more than the investigation.

But she could never know that.

The noise of someone setting a glass on the table snapped him out of his thoughts. Brown liquid swished inside of it, and three ice cubes clinked together from the motion.

Frank’s eyes trailed up from the glass to the person who’d set it down, and his heart did a little fluttery dance.

“I didn’t order anything.”

“I know.” Hazel Levesque smirked. “Can’t a Jane bring her John a drink?”

“I wasn’t aware I was your anything,” Frank replied. He lifted the glass and took a hesitant sip. The liquor burned on the way down, but it settled pleasantly in his stomach.

“Oh, you’re plenty of things.” Hazel plopped herself down in the seat across the table from him, but Frank couldn’t bring himself to mind. “I had fun the other night.”

“So did I,” Frank agreed. His mind drifted back to their dinner. It was candle-lit, romantic, and hopelessly uninformative.

“I wouldn’t object to doing it again,” she continued. “You know, if you’re interested.”

“I’d love to,” Frank answered without thinking. 

“Great!” Hazel’s eyes lit up as she smiled, and this time, Frank didn’t need the alcohol for a gentle warmth to fill his belly. “I know a real swanky spot we can go. It’s the berries.”

“Tomorrow night?” Frank suggested. 

“Tomorrow’s a no-can-do,” Hazel replied. She’d worn her hair down that night with just a beaded headband, and her curls bounced as she shook her head. “Chase and Grace are bringing in a big band for the evening. No way am I missing that. But the night after I’m all yours.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven,” Frank said immediately, mentally cursing himself for his eagerness. 

“I’ll wear something pretty.” 

Before Frank could even process what was happening, Hazel was leaning across the table. She pressed a gentle, lipsticked kiss to his cheek, hovering there and breathing out puffs of cinnamon-scented breath before standing up. She departed for the corner of the club near the stage where her fellow singers stood chatting, hips swaying as she walked.

Sergeant Frank Zhang, the NYPD’s top detective, was in way over his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Hope you all liked the chapter. Sorry for the slight POV change in there, I couldn't really figure out how to fix it. If you guys have any hunches as to who the Timekeeper was, let me know in the comments. If you want to scream at me directly, my tumblr is @mediocre-cookie


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay. I've been having some mental health problems lately, and my summer's going to get a lot busier soon, but I'll try to post as often as possible. Sorry if this chapter isn't that good, or if anybody's OOC. This is my first multichapter fic, and I'm really trying.

“So,” Percy said, stretching his arms over his head. “Remind me. What exactly do we need to set up?”

Annabeth sighed, rolling her eyes as she set down the two chairs she’d been carrying. “I told you earlier. We need to move the tables out of the way so we have a bigger dance floor for tonight. I swear, you’ve been spending a little too much time down at the docks. All that seaweed is filling your brain.”

Percy pouted indignantly, letting his arms fall to his sides. “It is not. You’re all wet.”

Annabeth chuckled, making her way back towards the middle of the club and grabbing two more chairs. “Come on, are you going to help me out or not? I invited you so I could have a big, strong man helping me, not so you could stand around while I do all the work.”

“Aw, when you start buttering me up, I know you’re teasing.” Percy grabbed the table that Annabeth’s chairs had been stacked on and followed her towards the side of the room, struggling a bit with the weight.

“So,” Annabeth said, giving his shoulder an affectionate squeeze as she passed him to get more chairs. “A little birdie told me that someone has been flirting quite a bit with said birdie’s little brother.”

“I- I wasn’t-... I-I mean, I-”

Annabeth chuckled. “Hey, don’t worry. Thalia’s not planning your murder for anytime soon, as long as you don’t intend to break his heart.”

“Hey, I never said-” Percy started, then began again. “I mean, I’m not… God, Annie, those eyes!”

“Mm-hmm. Let it out, Seaweed Brain.”

Normally, Percy would protest the use of the nickname, but Annabeth supposed he really must be falling for the younger Grace sibling, because he put down the table he’d been carrying and sat on it, a far-off look in his eyes.

“They’re such a nice blue, you know? And you’d think the glasses would kind of ruin them, but they just make them look bigger. And his muscles… Wow. Just wow. And he’s smart, too. He could talk for hours about verb conjugations, and I’d probably listen to him even though I don’t understand half the words coming out of his mouth.”

Annabeth snorted. “Looks like somebody’s got a thing for smart blondes… But I’m telling you, you’ll be sorry if you’re singing the same tune in three weeks’ time when he’s on the next train back to California.”

“I know.” Percy’s face slipped into a signature seal pout. “What should I do?”

Annabeth sighed, setting down the chairs she’d been carrying. “You want my advice?”

“Yes.”

“Honest?”

“Wouldn’t ask for anything less.”

“Don’t go chasing someone you can’t have.”

Percy scowled, obviously displeased with the answer. “Well. Got any more of my life choices you want to criticize?”

Annabeth picked up the chairs again, but set them back down abruptly. “Actually…”

Percy stood, crossing his arms over his chest. “Uh-oh. I know that actually. What is it?” 

“I can’t help but notice,” Annabeth began carefully, keeping her tone gentle. “That you’ve been getting a little too involved with our corner booth regulars.”

Percy stiffened immediately. “What about them?”

“It’s dangerous,” Annabeth continued. “Lord only knows what those two are really planning. If you don’t watch out, you’ll find yourself in the slammer, or worse.”

“Who I chose to associate with is none of your business,” Percy protested.

“Whom,” Annabeth corrected. “And it is when you could be getting yourself in trouble.”

“I can handle a little trouble.”

“Percy, don’t get defensive.”

“Why shouldn’t I get defensive?” Percy demanded. His face seemed to cloud over. Annabeth was familiar enough with the expression to know to take a step back. She’d seen it directed at several people over the course of the years she’d known him, but never at her.

“Percy-”

“Did you ever think,” he began, voice slow and cool. “That this might be an opportunity for me? If this goes off without a hitch, I could retire before I hit forty. I could get my mom out of the city.”

“And if something goes wrong, you could be arrested. Or killed.”

For a moment, Percy looked like he was softening. Like he would break down and have an honest conversation with her about the things he was getting himself into. But instead, he stormed over towards the door and grabbed his coat.

“I’ll be back when you start serving gin,” he grumbled, tugging on his overcoat.

“You don’t even drink,” Annabeth argued, taking a step closer to him.

“Well, maybe it’s time to start.”

With that, he stormed out of the speakeasy, a blast of cold wind coming in from the opened door before it slammed behind him.

Annabeth took a deep breath before picking up one of the tables with considerably more ease than Percy had and starting to carry it towards the far wall. She still had a lot to set up.

-

“Hey, we’re not open yet, doc! Come back in half an hour.”

“Nice to see you too, Thalia,” Will Solace called to the woman behind the bar as he removed his coat and hung it up. Normally, he wouldn’t even think of coming in before the place opened, but tonight wasn’t just any night. Tonight, his friends were coming in from Long Island, and he was going to spend as much time as possible with them.

“Will!”

He looked up when he heard a familiar voice call his name from the stage, and immediately his face split into a grin. The person who’d shouted his name ran down from the stage and threw her arms around his neck before he could react.

“Hey, Lou Ellen,” Will said, wrapping his arms around her. “God, how long has it been?”

“Too long,” Lou Ellen decided, pulling back and grabbing his hand. She led him across the club and up to the stage. “Everybody, Will’s here!”

“Will!” Cecil Markowitz pulled him into a hug immediately, still holding his trumpet. Lou Ellen dropped his hand so he could properly greet his friend, instead walking over to her saxophone case. “Man, it’s been too long. Last time I saw you was Silena and Charlie’s wedding. You still in medical school?”

“Graduated in May,” Will answered. “My dad got me a spot apprenticing for this doctor he knows. House calls and the like. He used to work for Bellevue Hospital Center, so he has some connections there.”

From across the stage, Clarisse la Rue chuckled humorlessly, not looking up from polishing up her trombone. “Everybody check out the big man on campus.”

“Somebody’s hard-boiled,” Chris Rodriguez teased, abandoning his drumset to walk over and drape an arm around her shoulders. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, coaxing a rare smile.

“Ignore them,” Lou Ellen said, shaking her head. “I swear, what did I do in a past life to deserve to get stuck with so many heterosexuals?”

“Hey,” Silena Beauregard protested from her seat next to her husband, Charles Beckendorf, both tuning massive cellos. “I’ll have you know, we are the best heterosexuals you will ever meet.”

“But it’s so hard being in the minority,” Lou Ellen whined.

“Then I’ve got a hard truth to tell you about society,” Butch Walker joked before returning to his violin.

Will laughed, looking around at the various members of the band. He didn’t regret leaving Long Island in favor of the city one bit, but sometimes he really missed his friends. He’d nearly cried when Annabeth had agreed to book the band for the first time, telling him that it was to repay him for his help when she’d injured her shoulder a year earlier. Their sparse visits to the city were nothing like the old days, when they’d all grown up in the same small neighborhood, but they were something. And Will would take anything he could get.

“So,” Silena said, still focused on her cello. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

Will did a double take. “Pardon?”

“Silena’s got a sixth sense about this stuff,” Charles reminded him. “It’s best to just confess before she fishes it out of you.”

Will looked between the two of them before sighing. “I don’t know his name, exactly, but he sits in the corner booth every night, and he talked to me last night, and… Is it bad that I can’t stop thinking about him?”

The entire band exchanged looks with each other before answering. “A little.”

Will groaned, slumping against Cecil’s shoulder. “I’m doomed. Doomed, I say.”

Cecil chuckled, shoving him lightly. “Thalia!” he called over towards the bar. “You sure you haven’t started serving any hooch yet? This guy’s acting zozzled!”

“Aw, hell.” Will shoved Cecil back. “It’s not my fault I’m being enchanted by an Italian with a gin habit and some really nice suits.”

“Yes!” Lou Ellen shouted, raising her saxophone in triumph. “Finally, another homosexual! Thank you, God! Or should I be thanking Lucifer for that?”

“Oh, yes,” Will said. “Mock me in my time of pain.”

“You know, there’s a very simple solution to your little problem,” Clarisse pointed out. She and Chris had changed positions so it was her arm around him. “Ask him out.”

“No!” Will said immediately. “I can’t do that! How do I even know if he’s… Y’know…”

“You slay me,” Butch deadpanned. “If he’s hanging out in a place like this, you know he’s You Know.”

Will rolled his eyes. “I’m going to let you all get to your sound check, or whatever it is you have to do.”

“Fine,” Lou Ellen said. “But we’d better see you out on that dance floor with your mysterious gin-sipping Italian, deal?”

“Yeah,” Will joked. “You definitely will.”

-

The band’s music roared through the speakeasy, reverberating slightly off the walls. The lilting notes and up-tempo beat, Reyna noticed, seemed to lift even Nico’s spirits. She could see his index finger tapping along with the drummer on their table.

Smoke filled the air as Gwen, one of the visitors from Rome, exhaled. When she and Dakota had arrived, Reyna had offered them both a smoke, but Gwen had been the only one to take her up on the offer, the latter opting for a glass of wine. They’d long since finished discussing business, but the cigarettes and alcohol had kept coming. 

“So, I says to him,” Dakota slurred. He drained his glass of wine before continuing. “I says, ‘You got any idea who you’re messing with?’ And he says… What’d he say?”

“Beats me.” Gwen shrugged, looking over her shoulder at the dance floor. A few pairs were already dancing, including Thalia and her brother, and Frank and Hazel. “We should go dance. Do you all want to dance?”

“My partner and I do not dance,” Reyna said simply. She took a puff from her cigarette. “But you two feel free. We’ve talked business enough tonight.”

That was all Gwen needed to get up from her seat and drag Dakota onto the dance floor. Nico drained his second gin and tonic, turning to Reyna.

“You handled that nicely. But we still have to secure that girl before we’re ready for the heist.”

“Leave her to me.” Reyna smirked, still watching the dance floor. Piper and Rachel had paired off and were putting the rest of the room to shame. Her eyes happened to drift, and she noticed Frank accidentally squish Hazel’s toes. “How come you’re not up there with your sister? You two make quite the dance partners.”

Nico snorted. “Wait until I’m about ten times more ossified. Then we’ll see.”

Reyna raised a hand and snapped her fingers twice, getting Annabeth’s attention. Over the din of the crowd, she called, “One more gin and tonic for the gentleman!”

-

Percy glanced at the drink on his table before looking up at the person who’d brought it to him.

“Gin?”

“Soda water,” Annabeth corrected, sitting down in the seat across from him. “Look, Percy-”

“I know,” he said, focusing back down at the bubbles in the drink. “You were nosy. I was defensive. Not the first time it’s happened. Truce?”

“Truce.” 

Percy didn’t have to look up to hear the smile in her voice. He took a sip of the soda water she’d brought.

“Do you want to dance?” she asked once he’d set the glass down. 

Percy looked up, ready to decline, but he caught a glimpse of Jason dancing with Thalia over Annabeth’s shoulder,  
and found himself saying, “Okay.”

Grinning, Annabeth grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the dance floor. He followed her to a relatively clear spot. The band was playing something jaunty and upbeat, and it didn’t take them long to match their movement to the rhythm.

Barely a minute had passed before Thalia was dancing Jason over to the pair. 

“Mind if I cut in?” she asked. “I promised my partner here I’d save the best dance for her.”  
With that, she grabbed Annabeth by the hand, spinning her under her arm once before waltzing her across the dance floor. Percy went still immediately. Jason stood in front of him, the scar at the corner of his lip twitching with a smile.

“Want to dance?” Jason asked, offering a hand.

Percy smiled, taking his hand and trying to appear smooth. “Thought you’d never ask.”

The band struck up a new song, and they found their rhythm.

-

“Hey, Freckles!”

Will looked up from his seat at the edge of the dance floor to see a sight he never thought he’d see in a million years.

There was the Necromancer, the handsome Italian with a gin habit and some nice suits, dancing. His partner was a pretty black girl, one of the singers, the gold fringe of her dress shimmering and swishing as she moved, curtain of tight dark curls bouncing over her shoulders. They had a whole circle of the dance floor cleared out, and they were good. Really good. They moved fluidly and in time to the rhythm, bouncing and twirling in ways Will had never seen before. The song ended, and the man dipped her with a flourish. 

“Hey, Freckles!” the Necromancer called again as the singer stood up and went back over to the other two. He’d slipped into a much heavier accent than usual. “You want the next one?” 

“The next dance?” Will stood abruptly, knocking his chair over. He scrambled to right it.

“No, the next sinker.” The man staggered, and it was then that Will realized how drunk he was. “C’mon, I don’t bite.”

Will chuckled, making his way across the dance floor. He glanced up at the stage, and Lou Ellen shot him a look.

“I’m warning you,” Will said, taking the man’s hand. “I can’t dance.”

“Everybody can dance,” the Italian insisted as the band struck up another song. “Come on, I’ll lead.”  
The Necromancer took two steps back, waving and hand out to his side with splayed fingers. Will imitated the movement, but it came out rough and jerky. The Italian laughed, stepping back in and making the same motion with his hand, and Will struggled to keep up. 

They continued this easy repetition of steps, and Will fell into the rhythm. A small laugh escaped his lips, and his dance partner raised a hand for him to twirl under. Will complied, finding it easier than he’d thought it’d be, and even twirled a second time, extending his hand for a flourish-

“Cazzo!”

Will felt the hand holding his pull away from his grip, and he turned to see the man with both hands clamped over his nose. He moved them away, revealing a stain of blood over his upper lip.

“Oh, shit…” Will took a step in closer, his entire face flushing red. “I’m so sorry. Do you think it’s broken or anything?”

The Necromancer shook his head, continuing with a string of what Will assumed were swears.

“Here, pinch your nose and tilt your head forward.” Will took another step in, watching the man follow his instructions with a curious expression. “I told you, I’m a doctor.”

“You were right.”

The man’s words came out all pinched off and warped from the way he held his nose closed, and a small laugh escaped Will’s lips. “I was right about what?”

“You can’t dance for shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Cazzo!" ... "Fuck!"
> 
> Any and all Italian comes from shitty internet translations, so I'm sorry if it's incorrect at any point. Hope you all enjoyed this. Hopefully, the next chapter will come soon. Keep commenting, seeing your feedback gives me life. And if you want to scream at me privately, my tumblr is @mediocre-cookie


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry it took me so long to get this up, I was doing a summer program and then I had some school stuff to take care of and ugh. I can't promise a regular posting schedule, but I'll at least try to not go over a month between posts again if I can help it.

Everything seemed to compliment Hazel Levesque perfectly.

Chandeliers hung low from the ceiling of the restaurant, casting a warm glow over her shimmering ruby-red dress and tightly pinned-up curls. A small candle on the table illuminated her face, expression gentle and inviting. Her eyes, brown with golden flecks, were nearly as inviting as her lips, stained scarlet with lipstick and curled in a slight smile.

Frank Zhang mentally scolded himself for paying less attention to her words than to the mouth saying them.

“-And that’s when I met Piper, and she introduced me to Rachel a little while later, and really the group formed on its own. Anyway, that’s me, what about you?”

“Pardon?” Frank asked, forcing himself to focus.

“What do you do?” Hazel specified. “For a living?”

Frank felt his stomach twist into a knot. He couldn’t tell her, he would never be able to tell her, he had to tell her- “I, uh… I work in the menagerie. At Central Park.”

“Nifty!” Hazel’s face split into a grin. “What’s that like? Working with all those animals?”

“It’s great.” God above, Frank hated lying, even about something trivial like his job. “But hey, let’s not talk about work.”

“Sure,” Hazel said. “Tell me about something else.”

“Like what?” Frank asked. He picked up his glass of water and took a sip.

“Well, what’s your family like?” Hazel pressed.

“My family,” Frank repeated, setting his glass down. “Well, I grew up with my grandmother and mother in Canada - never really knew my father - and then I moved to the states to go to college in California. I went back home for a while after my mother died, but when my grandmother passed I came down to New York.”

Hazel’s expression turned sympathetic. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

Frank shrugged. It had been a few years already since his grandmother had passed, and only a couple more since he’d lost his mother. Both were old scars, motivating him to do his best.

“It’s alright.”

“Do you mind if I asked how it happened?” Hazel asked. 

“My grandmother went peacefully in her sleep,” Frank explained. “Old age. But my mother went to fight for the Allies during the war. They wouldn’t let her sign on at first, since she was a woman, but she tried again disguised as a man and they sent her over to Britain. She died trying to save a friend of hers who’d been shot at the Marne. Never got to see the victory at the end.”

“I’m so sorry,” Hazel repeated. “My mom died a few years ago too, you know. She was a fortune teller back home, and she used to give out little jewels to her customers for luck. This one man came back a few weeks after his consultation, ranting about how some ruby she’d given him had gotten his brother killed. He’d brought his shotgun and… Well. I moved up here a few weeks later.”

“Oh.” Frank couldn’t think of a response that she hadn’t heard probably a thousand times before, so instead he asked, “What about the rest of your family?”

“My dad’s some white guy who runs a few funeral homes,” Hazel said. “They’re apparently pretty successful, but I only ever met him once. I met his other kid a few years ago, though, and we got close. You might know him, he hangs out at the juice joint a lot. Corner booth, kinda scary?”

“Right, him.” Frank sat up a little straighter. This was the information he needed. “What does he call himself? The Necromancer?”

Hazel shrugged. “He’s a good guy, Frank. He just gets himself involved in some nasty stuff.”

“What sort of stuff?” Frank pressed. 

“Let’s not talk about my brother, okay?” Hazel reached out and touched Frank’s arm, and he felt his heart beat maybe ten times faster. “Tonight’s for you and me.”

Frank found himself nodding, even though he needed to keep her on topic. “Tonight’s for me and you.”

-

“Hello there, sailor.”

Percy looked up to see none other than Jason Grace, draping himself over the bar and batting his eyes flirtatiously.

“Um… Hello there,” Percy said slowly, speaking loudly so he could be heard over the singers, as he eyed Jason uncertainly.

“You come here often?” Jason slid forward a bit on the bar, and his feet slipped out from under him. 

“Woah-” Percy reached out and helped the professor to his feet. “Tell me, just how splifficated are you?”

“I’m not,” Jason said with a little satisfied smile.

“Your breath says otherwise,” Percy pointed out. “You smell like you’re draining the entire bar dry.”

Jason chuckled, leaning forward a bit to rest his head on Percy’s shoulder. “You got me.” His expression went serious. “I’m drinking my problems away, Percy Jackson.”

“What are your problems?” Percy asked, trying to keep his tone just as serious, although a small smile tugged at his lips. He couldn’t help it, Jason was too adorable when he was drunk off his mind.

“Well,” Jason said dramatically. “To start, you are a very attractive man.”

Percy chuckled. No way Jason actually meant it. He was obviously drunk, and he didn’t know what he was saying. He couldn’t. “Good, you’ve noticed it too?”

Jason laughed for a solid minute, then went serious. “See,” he slurred, “This is what I mean. You’re always saying these cute things, and you have the prettiest eyes in the whole entire world.” 

“You said you were drinking away multiple problems,” Percy said, trying to change the subject so Jason wouldn’t completely regret this conversation the next morning. “What are the others?”

“Well, you see,” Jason said, getting even more impassioned in his words. “I’ve got this en’ma… This eni’ma…”

“Enigma?” Percy supplied.

“Yeah!” Jason grinned, poking a finger into Percy’s chest. “One of those! Anyway, my problem is that you are a very attractive man, and I’m a bit of a looker, right? You think so?”

Percy felt his cheeks redden. “I’d say so, yeah.”

“So, we should work, right?” Jason asked, looking at Percy earnestly. “Provided you’re a three-letter man, but I can just tell you’re a three-letter man.”

“You’d better watch that three-letter man talk,” Percy warned. “Outside here that kind of talk is pretty dangerous.”

“But we’re inside here.”

“Yes, but-”

“Anyway,” Jason interrupted. “We should be able to be something really great, right? But I gotta go back to California soon, and that’s…” He paused, screwing up his face in conversation as if trying to calculate the exact distance. “Really, really far away.”

Percy nodded. He’d been having the exact same doubts about making a move. “It is. All the way across the country.”

“Exactly!” Jason agreed. “And I don’t want to be that far away from you and your pretty eyes, especially if we might actually have a thing between us.”

Percy swallowed. “Well, we don’t have a thing between us.”

“We could find out.”

And suddenly the space between them was getting smaller and smaller, and Percy could feel Jason’s warm, alcohol-scented breath on his face.

Their lips connected, and Percy’s world erupted in fireworks.

He only let it last a moment.

“Woah there,” he said, pushing Jason’s shoulders back gently. The blond pouted at him, glasses knocked a bit askew. “Bank’s closed.”

“Bushwa,” Jason complained. “That kiss was darb.”

“Maybe,” Percy admitted. “But you shouldn’t be kissing anybody when you’re as bent as you are.”

Jason’s face twisted into a pout, and it almost reminded Percy of a puppy dog. “I’m not too bent, and besides-”

“Percy!”

The two men looked over to see a very hurried Annabeth rush over on the other side of the bar. She reached under the counter to grab something.

“Jason gave Thalia an extra hotel key for emergencies,” she explained quickly, reaching across the bar and waving the key in front of Percy’s face. “He’s looking like he had a few too many, maybe you should bring him back to get some rest?”

“Um. Thanks. That’s smart.” Percy took the key slowly, shooting her a curious look. Annabeth just smirked in response, so he turned to Jason. “Alright, let’s go get you back to your room.”

“And you into my bed?”

Behind the bar, Annabeth cracked up as Percy let out a dry chuckle. “We’ll see where the night goes, okay?”

-

“What’s got you so happy?”

Reyna scowled a bit, turning away from the stage to face Nico. “What do you mean?”

“You were drumming your fingers to the beat with this content little smile,” Nico explained, tilting his glass towards the table. Sure enough, the fingers not holding a cigarette were drumming along involuntarily. “Who died?” he continued, teasing.

“Will you stop that?” Reyna asked, withdrawing her hand from the table. Not wanting to give off an appearance of being flustered, she took a drag from the cigarette in the other hand.

Nico smirked. “You were watching the canary.”

It is not a question, it’s a statement, and a very true one. All night, Reyna had not been able to remove her eyes from Piper McLean. But who could blame her? That night, Piper was performing a solo, accompanied by Leo on the piano and the other singers on backup vocals. She wore a pink, plunging dress that hugged every curve of her body, complete with a long black feather in her pinned-up hair. Every note was nuanced, every word articulated by a gesture or a wayward glance. She was elegant and seductive and Reyna wanting absolutely nothing and absolutely everything to do with her.

“It’s important to keep an eye on her,” she dismissed, watching her plume of smoke trail away into thin air.

“You’d like to keep more than an eye on her.”

“I could say the same about you and your doctor.” Reyna didn’t even have to look to know that her partner in crime had been reduced to a blushing mess by the comment, that her diversion of the topic had worked. “Tell me, how are things going with him?”

“He’s a friend,” Nico said curtly. 

“Do you want him to be?” Reyna asked.

“It’s my only option.”

At that comment, Reyna moved her feet from the booth to the floor and turned to fully face her friend. “It’s not, you know.”

“It is.” Nico shifted a bit, closing himself off to her with his shoulder.

“I’ve told you, di Ange-”

“Stop!”

Reyna frowned. “It’s just us. No one is listening in or-”

“You don’t know that,” Nico insisted. “The Timekeeper had spies everywhere. It could be the Augur, or the Golden Sword, or-”

“Hey,” Reyna snapped, placing a hand on Nico’s shoulder. He immediately shrugged it off. “The Timekeeper has been dead for three years.”

“So has-”

“I know. But what happened to her will not happen again, understood? We will be more careful this time. No more silly mistakes.”

“It wasn’t a silly mistake,” Nico argued, starting to raise his voice a bit. “It was gross negligence-”

“By someone you said we could trust with this heist,” Reyna protested.

“By our only option,” Nico corrected, slamming his glass down on the table. “The point is, I’ve only just met Dr. Solace. I have no idea who he’s working for-”

“If he’s working for anyone-”

“And I need to be careful. I have another chance for family here. I’m not letting it go.”

Reyna sat back, studying his face. After a moment, she spoke up again. “This isn’t about him turning out like Jackson, is it?”

“What?” Nico met her eyes with poorly concealed fear. 

“Will is not going to be the next Bianca, Nico.”

The Italian’s normally olive complexion went a greenish pale. He opened his mouth to argue, but instead stood hastily, half storming and half running away from the booth. He grabbed his sleek black coat from the hook and was nearly out the door before he ran straight into none other than Dr. William Solace himself. Will said something to him that Reyna couldn’t quite make out over the music and the din of the crowd, but Nico shoved past him and out of the speakeasy, letting the door slam behind him.

Will looked around confusedly before his eyes settled on Reyna. She gestured with her cigarette towards the door.

“What exactly are you waiting for? My permission? Go after him.”

Will nodded, pushing his hat farther down on his head before following Nico out the door. Reyna shook her head a bit, watching him go. She sat back in the booth, putting her feet up once more.

From her spot center stage, Piper McLean shot her a wink.

Reyna took another drag from her cigarette.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed! I know it's not the best it could be, but I tried. Any thoughts on who the Golden Sword is? If you want to scream at me, my tumblr is @mediocre-cookie


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I went back to edit something in chapter two to fix some continuity stuff, but it's nothing too severe. Sorry this one is a little shorter than usual, but this deserves its own chapter.

By the time Will Solace had been directed out of the speakeasy, the only bit of the Necromancer remaining in sight was a glimpse of his jacket as he turned down a street corner. Will took off, chasing after him as fast as he could without slipping on the slick pavement. The weather was nothing unexpected from a New York winter; a light, cold snow dusted Will’s shoulders and hat as he rounded the corner. The Necromancer had gained about a block of a lead on Will, but was just starting to break into a run. Shaking his head slightly, Will picked up his pace, determined to catch up to the mysterious figure. At the end of the next block, the Necromancer turned, but this time Will was much closer.

Desperate, he called out. “Wait!”

The Necromancer glanced over his shoulder for barely a moment, just long enough for him to lose his footing on the icy street. He hit the ground hard, and Will skidded to a stop.

“Woah,” he said, crouching down to help the fallen figure and setting his briefcase on the ground next to him. He had barely reached out to provide some support when the man pushed him off.

“Stay back!” The voice, while as harsh as expected, came out a little strained. “Levati dai coglioni, I do not need your help.”

“I’m sorry,” Will said quickly, moving back a few inches. “Are you alright?”

“Of course I’m alright.”

“I know,” Will said, careful to keep his tone gentle without being condescending. “But I’m a doctor, it’s my job to be concerned. Will you humor me?”

The Necromancer pushed himself up into a seated position, wiping scraped and bloody hands on his coat. “My, um… What is the word? Between the leg and the foot?”

In spite of himself, Will smiled. “Your ankle?” he supplied.

“Yes.” The Necromancer offered a small smile back, though it came across more as a grimace. “Ankle. The right one. It was hurt when I fell.”

“Can I see it?” Will asked.

“Pardon?” the man asked, smile turning into a scowl. 

Will shook his head, deciding to rephrase. “Take off your shoe. I want to take a look at your ankle.”

The Necromancer blinked. “It is barely twenty degrees out here, and you want me to take off my shoe?”

Will shrugged. “I have a bandage in my briefcase, but I can only help if I can see your foot.”

The man shook his head, though he started to unlace his right wing-tip. “You are - What is the phrase? Off your nuts? I apologize, my mind is a bit scattered at the moment.”

Will paused before asking, “Why is that? All I saw was you leaving in a huff.”

“I do not know if a huff is the way to describe it,” the man said as he removed his shoe, then his sock. “I was upset, but I was not in a huff.”

Will leaned down a bit to inspect the ankle. It seemed a little swollen already, but nothing was bent how it wasn’t supposed to be or sticking out at the wrong angle. 

“It’s not broken,” he decided. “Just twisted. Maybe sprained. I’ll wrap it for you, and it’ll be a little sore when you walk, but you shouldn’t need a crutch or anything.”

He opened up the briefcase at his side, a mess of supplies and files. He removed a hastily wrapped elastic bandage and closed up the case, then got to work.

“So,” he said, trying to sound casual, “What happened?”

Maybe it was the fact that they were on the ground in the snow at ten thirty at night, but the Necromancer sighed. “I argued with my business partner.”

“About?” Will pressed.

“About you.”

Both of them seemed to realize what had happened at the same instant. Will met the man’s eyes briefly, just for a fleeting moment, before returning to the ankle.

“Not about you, really,” the Necromancer corrected. “Mostly about something that happened a few years back.”

“Oh.” Will tried not to be disappointed. He wasn’t sure why he’d be disappointed. “What happened a few years back?”

The man shook his head. “That, Freckles, you will never know.”

Will looked up at the use of the epitaph, then down again, securing the bandage. “You can just call me Will, you know.”

“I like Freckles better.”

Will smiled a bit, sitting back. “Try to stay off that thing, alright? It’ll take a few days to heal fully, maybe a week, but it’ll be longer if you don’t rest it.”

“Thank you,” the Necromancer said. He moved to get up, but Will placed a hand on his shoulder, keeping him down.

“I know you don’t know me well,” he said gently, meeting his eyes. “But if you tell me what happened, I promise I will not tell a soul.”

Something in the man’s expression melted. “It was three years ago.”

The Necromancer leaned back against the wall, so Will did as well, cold and dusted in snow but comfortable.

“I hadn’t started working with Romana yet,” he continued. “She hadn’t come to this country yet. I had been working alone for a few months. A few small operations, making a name for myself. I called myself the Angel back then, I was a stupid young man. Anyway, there was a shipment of Greek antiquities coming from a private collection to a museum here in the city over a railway line, and my sister-”

“You have a sister?”

The man shook his head. “Had. Her name was Bianca.”

Will nodded, frowning a bit. Was. “Okay. Continue.”

“Bianca had always been fascinated by ancient Greece,” he said, considerably quieter than before. “She taught me about it when we were young. So when I heard about the shipment, even though it was bigger than anything I’d ever pulled off, I decided to go for it. There was a man who worked for the shipping company - he comes to the drum sometimes, you might know him - who knew my sister. I enlisted his help. He would make sure the security was limited on the particular car storing the antiquities, and Bianca and I would sneak in, in the uniforms of the train staff, to take the most valuable boxes.

“There was only one guard on the car. My… Associate had worked on befriending him weeks beforehand, but he made a mistake. He told the guard the names of the people who would enter the car. We made it past him and into the car, and were about halfway through loading up what we wanted when the guard came in. Turns out he wasn’t a guard. He was a rival of mine - a rival of everyone in my line of work, really - who called himself the Timekeeper. He grabbed Bianca, held his pistol to her head-”

The Necromancer stopped abruptly, covering his mouth with a hand. He took a shuddering breath, then continued.

“I had no choice. I left the boxes of artifacts and I backed away, towards the door, until he lowered the pistol. As soon as his guard was down, I grabbed the gun and shot him.” 

Will’s face must have betrayed his surprise, because the man added, “I didn’t kill him. Back then, I didn’t know how to fire a gun properly, especially not in a struggle. I hit his hip. It was enough for him to release her, though. Enough for him to move the knife in his other hand.”

Another hitching breath. The Necromancer swiped at his eyes. “He’d stabbed her. He didn’t die that day, but she did. After that incident, the Timekeeper fell off the radar. No one knows where he’s been. I learned how to fire a gun. I gave myself a new name. I began working with Romana. And I gave no one else the power to hurt me or the people I care about.”

Will reached out to touch his shoulder, expecting to be rebuffed, but to his surprise the man allowed the gesture of comfort. For a full minute, neither of them spoke, the gravity of the story hanging in the air. But finally, Will broke the silence.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

The man gave a short laugh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He wouldn’t have hurt her if he didn’t know who I was, and who she was, and how it would hurt me.”

“But that doesn’t make it your fault,” Will insisted.

“No,” he agreed. “It makes it my associate’s fault. But it means I have to be careful now. With who I trust. With who knows me. With who gets close to me.”

Will nodded. “I understand.”

“Do you?” the man snapped.

Will pulled his hand back slowly. “Okay. Maybe I don’t. I’m sorry. But I want you to know, even though we haven’t known each other long, even if you have to keep me at arm’s length, I care about you. No matter what.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” Gently, Will reached out and cupped the man’s chin with his hand, meeting his eyes. “I care. And I promise, there is nothing I will ever do to hurt you.”

“Nico di Angelo.”

The name was out of the Necromancer’s mouth suddenly, with what appeared to be no thought. His shell-shocked expression matched Will’s own, but he didn’t stop.

“That’s my name. Nico di Angelo. I don’t - wow - I don’t know why I said that. Twice.”

“Twice,” Will repeated. And in spite of everything, he smiled. “It’s a nice name.”

The Necromancer - Nico - shook his head slightly. “You know. You can destroy me.”

And with what was definitely no thought, Will leaned in, pressing barely the ghost of a kiss to Nico’s lips. “I promise, I will never destroy you.”

-

A hotel room across the city. A snow-dusted jacket tossed haphazardly onto the bed. A cigarette burning away, forgotten, on the edge of the desk. An abandoned, half-emptied glass of red wine. A wiry blonde man hunched forward, elbows resting on the desk’s surface. A fire alight behind his eyes. A whirring speaker, playing garbled strands of conversation.

“It’s a nice name.”

“You know. You can destroy me.”

A moment of silence. A noise of something brushing by the microphone, hidden away in the chest piece of Dr. Will Solace’s stethoscope.

“I promise, I will never destroy you.”

A lip curling into a smirk.

“Oh, but I will.”

The Augur sat back in his chair, turning his head and calling through the paper-thin wall of his hotel room into the one adjacent.

“Kahale! Get me everything you can find on Nico di Angelo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to leave you on this! Tune in next time to see what happens.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! More ships to come in later chapters, I promise. I'm not sure when my next update will be, but I'm going to try to post as regularly and as often as possible. Let me know what you think in the comments below, and if you want to scream at me personally, my tumblr is @mediocre-cookie


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